When Nothing Makes Sense Anymore
by rookiebluefan89
Summary: A one-shot based in early season 4. More than ever, Andy feels like she really needs the stress relief from a workout. Being back on the streets has proven to be more difficult than she remembers. The gym, though? The gym is easy and predictable. Until she realizes Sam's there too.


**A/N: This is just a little oneshot that I thought could fit between 4x02 and 4x03, or basically somewhere in early season 4. I'm a litte scared of what's coming later in this season (have you_ seen_ some of these promos? Yikes!), but I thought what I wrote here was something I wouldn't mind seeing ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue or iPods.**

* * *

Andy takes a peek through the window before stepping forward through the creaky, white door of the in-house gym. She's instantly bombarded with noisy chatter and the grossly familiar scent of sweat and rubber. With a quick glance around the room, Andy takes a deep breath and heads for the stationary bikes in the right corner. The gym area isn't huge, but feels strangely comforting. Since she'd returned from her UC operation, she'd found so much was different – even the locker she'd once called her own was no longer hers. However, this gym was one of the only things that hadn't changed a bit. Even their old rookie pictures still remain on the walls.

Andy hops up on the bike, swinging a leg over and swiftly adjusting the seat. It feels routine now. In the month since she'd been back, she'd been coming here a few times per week. More than ever, Andy feels like she really needs the stress relief from a workout. Being back on the streets has proven to be more difficult than she remembers. The gym, though? The gym is easy, and predictable.

At least she thought so, until she hears a familiar grunt from across the room. She glances up and instantaneously realizes that it is, in fact, _Sam_ that's being spotted by another cop while he groans his way through a set of bench presses. _Just g__reat, _Andy thinks, shaking her head infinitesimally and jostling her earphones until they fit properly inside her ears. She'd heard that Sam's on a health kick; Oliver's been telling her over and over that 'Sam jogs _alone _to work. And takes _Berkeley Street _to get here, McNally' but she still pretends she's never heard him say it. Her mind flashes back to the time she and Traci saw Cruz out jogging and tries not to think about what that does and doesn't mean. _The jackass won't give yoga a shot but of course, he'll do what she's into -. _

Andy sighs, clenches her jaw and mentally slaps her cheek as she returns her focus to the intervals that she knows she has to complete. Just her music and her non-Sam Swarek-related thoughts, for forty minutes.

However, it's when they switch it up a few minutes later, when Sam hops up and his buddy takes his position on the bench that he notices she's there. As much as she tries not to pay attention, their eyes meet and Andy gives him a quick nod of recognition, expecting the same in return. Instead, he gives her a quick, but genuine smile; big enough for those sexy dimples to make their appearance. _Focus Andy, focus._ She forces herself not to smile back, reaching down and grabbing her water bottle as a quick distraction before she does. The water dribbles down the sides of her mouth and down her neck as she ups the tension. Out of the corner of her eye, she see Sam's eyebrows raise, just before he clears his throat and looks away.

/

Five minutes after that, the amount of distraction in this place today is starting to get irritating. Andy peeks up just as Sam's whipping off his sweaty t-shirt, yanking up from the back like a jersey, his tank top traveling up with it. For a second, Andy stares; bites her lip and prays he isn't looking in her direction when the wife-beater gets yanked back down. His body looks _different_ though; fitter than she remembers and somehow, younger. Hell if that doesn't bring up memories of them, in the dark, back when she wanted him in ways she didn't know how to deal with. _Shutup Andy, _she nearly mumbles out loud.

Nonetheless, as much as she refuses reminisce about their relationship often - he's 'taken' now after all - Andy can't help the overwhelming urge to step down from this bike. She'd walk straight across the room and get her hands on him; run them over his heated body, drag her fingertips through his glistening chest hair and then down over his abdomen like she used to. _Wow. _Her cheeks flush as she looks away, and suddenly she's a lot less comfortable on this seat than she was before.

Sometimes Andy considers what might've happened if she'd come back and Sam wasn't 'with' _her_. She thinks about how she felt the second she saw his face in that warehouse. How she was willing to forget all of their shit from the past if he wanted to also. How she was so ready to tell him how guilty she'd felt for a really long time. How ready she was to tell him she'd never leave again if he just could promise her the same thing.

And then sometimes she thinks about the heat she threw at him with her eyes the first time she saw him and how mortifying it was to find out he had been seeing someone else all along. Another cop, at that. One that he can show physical affection to in public, without shame. It's not that Andy had expected him to be sitting on her doorstep with that puppy he promised her; not at all. In fact, while she was away she'd almost convinced herself she didn't feel the love for him that she used to. But she definitely hadn't expected a _girlfriend. _It's been a pretty shitty month in that aspect.

"You alright over there, McNally?" Sam's deep voice cuts into her thoughts and overtop of the music blasting into her ears.

Immediately Andy snaps out of her daze and grips the handles tighter, reminding her legs they need to keep moving. She glances up at him with a small glare, the visions of him and _youknowwho_ still sitting at the forefront of her thoughts. She nods quick and easy before looking away. How do you smile at someone who gives you nothing to smile about anyway? _Keep telling yourself something and someday you'll believe it. _ If she's honest, she kind of wonders how he's been doing too, if he's really as alright as he acts. They've barely worked together at all since she's been back and otherwise, there's never been a chance to have a conversation. But still, a minute later, Andy can feel Sam's gaze on her from his position behind the bench. So, she glues her eyes to his for a quick moment before she cocks an eyebrow.

"Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on your partner?" Andy protests, a little annoyed at the fact that he's watching her because honestly, she's feeling sweaty, gross and really unattractive. Not that she needs to look _attractive _for him but…

"I am," he disputes with a grin, nodding towards the positioning of his hands. "Something wrong?"

Andy rolls her eyes and pumps up the volume on her iPod.

/

A little while later, Andy's about ten minutes from the end of her workout. After seeing a long blur of burpees, push-ups and crunches on the mats in front of her, she finds the motivation to pick it up and kill the final part. _Sam's arms though, oh my god. _

Out of nowhere, Sam limps his way closer to her, stopping beside her bike to bend over in agony, his palms resting on his thighs while he heaves. Andy peeks over covertly, but otherwise keeps her attention on the tension of the bike and her fast-paced music. It's not until he taps her arm a few seconds later that she feigns surprise and tugs out her left earphone, staring at him curiously.

"Water?" Sam asks breathlessly, tipping his head of messy hair towards the bottle she has resting in her cup holder. His shoulders are shiny with sweat and the back of his wife-beater is drenched but somehow, he _still _smells good. "Please? I forgot to bring a bottle."

Andy hesitates, glances over at Sam's gym buddy to see if he's paying attention – which he isn't - but still shakes her head. "No...," she argues, furrowing her brow. If he's desperate, there's a water fountain not ten feet down the hallway from the gym. Besides, they're not dating and they're hardly _friends_ anymore. Acquaintances? Maybe, but acquaintances don't share water bottles.

Sam huffs, stands up straight and looks down at her, his tongue pressing into his cheek in a way that shows he's somewhat less than amused. He narrows his eyes at her, still breathing hard. "Wouldn't have made you for a germaphobe."

After letting out a surprised, unamused laugh, Andy looks away and smiles sadly to herself. _He is un-effing-believable. _When a sick reminiscent feeling bubbles up in her stomach, she pedals faster to get rid of it, and also, hopefully _him. _

"You know, your _girlfriend _probably wouldn't be too comfortable with _this,_" she gestures between them when he still doesn't walk away, watching an expression of disbelief play across his features. "So…"

The moment it left her mouth, Andy wished she could take it back. For the most part, Sam's been a pretty decent guy around her since she's been back. In the past twenty-five minutes, it really feels like he wants to go back to when they were partners, back when they were friends. Admittedly, when she first returned, Andy had flirted with him just a bit in the first couple of weeks. For the briefest of moments she hoped this was all a big joke; that he'd show up at her apartment again and she'd apologize till she was blue in the face and they'd end up in bed…But Sam is not a prize. And Andy's starting to feel like she needs to give up and move on; God knows that's what he's doing.

She doesn't watch his face, doesn't want to know if he's amused or sad or annoyed. Before she can stop herself, Andy hops down from the bike and weaves around him, heading straight out the gym door towards the locker room. Without even looking back, she knew his eyeballs were burning into the back of her head the whole way.

* * *

A long, hot shower is really what she'd needed to calm down. The locker room still feels the slightest bit steamy as she yanks the strap of her duffel over her shoulder and slams her locker closed. The humiliation from earlier isn't _gone_, though Andy truly hadn't meant to leave the gym in such a childish way. It just gets to be too much sometimes, especially when he thinks they've gotten to the point of joking together and sharing saliva. She gets it, he wantsto be friends, or at least _friendly_. But at this point, Andy's just not sure if that's an option for her.

As she makes her way out of the locker room and down the hallway, Andy doesn't notice anyone waiting for her. She smiles and waves at Dov - who's in for a training session - as she makes her way through the busy station. But when she gets closer to the exit, Andy hears a pair of boots hitting the floor behind her, picking up some speed; but still holding that swagger that she'd recognize anywhere. For a quick second, Andy contemplates if Cruz would recognize it; whether that's something all of his girlfriends would pick up on. It leaves a none-too-pleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach that stays there, even when she spins around on her heel and surely, sees Sam.

"You need something?" she frowns, her chin held high and her eyes giving his freshly clean look a once over.

Sam smirks, as if he's happy she _finally _turned around and noticed him. His dark eyebrows shoot up. "I, uh," he clears his throat, "wondered if you needed a ride home," he replies gruffly, head tilted down like maybe he's the slightest bit afraid of how she'll answer.

Immediately, her heart picks up. It's a question she's heard so many times and _still, _it feels different right now. "Sam...," Andy starts, her palms out in front of her as he steps closer. "We're not friends," she mutters, wishing it sounded more convincing than the way it came out. For the most part, she can't even look him in the eye but if she didn't know any better, she'd swear he winced there.

Sam sighs quietly in defeat, nodding towards an officer who strides past them. "McNally, it's just a ride," he assures her with a small smile. "Scout's honour," he jokes, three fingers up in the air in front of his shoulder.

Andy huffs out a laugh, watches his face shift into a relieved expression when she smiles at him. "I don't know, Sam," she debates, turning around to start walking again as a group of officers' heads towards the door. Even the feeling of walking beside him is _different_, the wonder if all these people around them know what happened, the constant wonder if the entire place thinks she's an idiot for going on an undercover operation and leaving him to grieve in a bar.

"Okay," Andy agrees cautiously with a nod, finally finding the courage to look into his eyes. "I'd really appreciate a ride," she confesses as she pushes open the back exit door to the parking lot. The chilly September air hits her skin as he gives her a nod and leads her out to his truck.

Sam clicks open the passenger door for her, smiling and motioning for her to hop in.

"Wait," Andy stops as she's about to climb in, turning slightly and laying her hand very gently on his bare arm. She's not facing him, thankfully, because she's afraid to know what the look on his face might've been. "Sam," she says quietly. She feels the warmth of his body _right there_ behind her, like maybe deep down he'd predicted this. "I'm sorry," she tells him honestly, turning the rest of the way around, just in time to catch the confused look form across his face in the semi-darkness of the parking lot. The streetlights splay shadows across his features. "About earlier."

His mouth opens immediately, like he has a hundred things to reply, but still, he pauses before he murmurs, "It wasn't that bad."

"No, no." Andy insists with a shake of her head, her palm coming up in front of her as she nearly cuts him off. She knew he'd try tell her it's no big deal, but it really feels like she needs this chance to apologize before it's all swept under the rug. "It's not fair for me to treat you like that," her eyes glance up at his to catch his softened expression. "You didn't do anything...," she pauses, closing her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts, "..._wrong_."

"I...," Sam starts to say, and when he stops she watches his jaw clench, his hands out in front of him like he's not quite sure where the best place to put them is. "I know you wouldn't believe it, but," he clears his throat. "I'm not trying to make anything hard on you," he tells her quietly, the word _you _leaving his mouth as barely a whisper. "It's not easy coming back."

Andy nods, her stomach flip-flopping at the tenderness of his voice. It's the same one that he would use to bring her back down, the one he would use to make her feel like everything was going to be okay even when _nothing at all _was okay. A chill runs up her spine, a small shudder that shakes through her shoulders. It's a stark contrast from the warmth she feels coursing through her veins, a swift reminder of some better times they've had in the back seat of the truck behind her. And she knew even the thought of that right now was so incredibly inappropriate.

"_Sam_...," Andy whispers, a little bit more desire in her tone than she'd intended, wiping quickly under her glassy eyes,

The next time she takes a breath and looks up at him, Andy's really not sure who starts to lean in first. All she knows is that suddenly they're sharing each other's air and then his mouth is on her mouth. Instantly, something releases in her chest that she didn't know had been stuck there - jammed in the cavity beside her heart. _How can something so foreign also feel so familiar, _she wonders as one hand grips his bicep, her palm running up his chest and grabbing at a bunch of his shirt to hold him tight against her. Sam moans quietly and backs her up against the cool metal of the truck, his hands clutching at her waist.

Andy misses him, so much; misses _this _and kisses him harder just to show him. There's this feeling inside her, like she could never get enough of Sam, even if she spent the next lifetime doing exactly what they're doing right now, this one thing that made her feel like they were on the same level. It always felt like the only way he could ever be totally honest with her; the way he grips on to her, the way his mouth fits so perfectly with hers and the groans she feels coming from his chest when she holds him close. _This_ is one of the few things that made her feel like he loved her and cherished her, even when he couldn't always communicate it in words.

He tugs on her leg to pull it up over his hip and press himself in closer to her, shifting his hips until he gets a gasp out of her. When he moves to suck on her neck, God does it make her want to drag his clothes off right here in this parking lot. And he's not being shy about his wants either, his hands literally making their way all over her body like he's trying to remember it again. She arches against him when his palm slips up under the hem of her shirt, the other hand keeping a firm grip on her butt to hold her leg where he wants it.

But then this nagging feeling in her brain starts to take over. The thought of Jo and Luke doing this behind her back and how for a split second, she gets why Jo did it. How you're so stupidly in love with someone that if for one moment, you know they feel it too, you just _need_ them.

However, that's when she breaks apart from Sam. Her hands stroke up his pecs and come up to cup his jaw, holding him there for just one last minute while his tongue strokes hers, and then…

"I can't do this," she whispers, after reluctantly pulling her mouth from his, their foreheads touching for a moment. In the distance she hears the sirens of a squad car leaving the lot and it brings her back to reality. "We can't."

His breathing is laboured, his face strained with tension, but still, he nods in agreement. "I know," Sam smiles miserably and looks away when she removes her hands from body. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's not your fault, just," she pauses, pleads with her eyes to make him understand. "This was wrong and we both know it," she murmured, reaching down to peel his hands from her waist. "I should walk home."

"You don't have to do that," his voice is rough and tense and she knows by his tone that he's ashamed of himself. But she also knows that if she stands here for any longer, she's going to want to make him feel _better_. And that's not okay.

So, Andy pulls herself together; reminds herself _again _that there's another woman in this equation, and he's made the choice to be with her. She squeezes past him, very careful not to let their bodies touch, and makes her way around the truck.

"I miss you," she hears him mumble from far away.

Her tears well up a little; guilt and remorse and everything else. But after all that's happened between them, she's become the master of blinking them back when she needs to.

Once she's a safe distance away, she turns to face him again. His eyes are the picture of defeat in the worst way, and it's heartbreaking. "_You_ are not this guy, Sam," she promises. "I'm so sorry for... I'm just sorry."

And this time, she doesn't let herself turn around, even as she hears him call out, "I don't know what to do anymore, Andy," in an uncharacteristically destitute voice. The tears definitely cannot be held back all the way home.


End file.
